Gay Robot Angst Number Thirty Four and Seven Hundredths
by Pink Anon
Summary: 4/5 - Wonderwall Continuity. Roll will shank you if you so much as mess with her, I swear. Also Blues decides to not be the one with issues for once, because Roll is watching and everyone lives in mortal fear of Roll, which is why she doesn't do the fighting of course. Rockblues, fluffy kinda.


the one i like the least. numbers (#3) is my favorite. i kind of like wonderwall roll because she'll fuck your shit up though. i haven't any other plotbunnies for the wonderwall continuity tho so this is it this is all of it enjoy.

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He's too still.

Blues kisses his face, the lids of his eyes, his helmet— and yet no response.

Of course it wouldn't work; Blues is logical, and the instant he pressed his lips to Rock's flesh he knew the contact would do nothing. He can still feel something, though— a CPU running, his core still beating. Blues lifts Rock, swearing.

He should have come sooner.

—

Blues remains a shadow in the doorway as Light runs repairs. He doesn't speak to the good doctor at all, even after Tom tries to spark up a conversation.

Roll peeks in on the occasion. There's worry on her brow, but she's not nearly as much of a wreck as Blues. As he paces the hallway, she steps up to him and touches his arm.

"I'm talking to him right now," she says. He recoils a bit, and she puts a hand on her chin. "Right. You don't have an auto-link, of course. He and I, we're…"

"Twins."

"Something like that." She brushes some of her blonde hair out of her face, a smile on her lips. "He's been through worse, Blues. It's his heart hurting more than his body right now, and that can't be repaired as easily."

"…He's still in pain."

"And you can fix that." She folds her hands behind her back. "I understand that feeling is hard for you, but please. Right now he needs all the love he can get. That enemy shook him mentally more than physically."

Blues grinds his teeth. "I should have gotten there faster—"

Roll shakes her head. "Don't say that to him. He'll just feel guilty for hurting you. And it's not your fault. Rock is very strong. Had he not been shaken, he would have escaped just fine."

Blues's fists clench. "You aren't helping."

"…I'm sorry."

"And will you turn off that emotional override?"

Roll blinks. "You can tell?" Her smile doesn't falter. "I always have it on during the wars. I don't think I'll turn it off until this next one ends. I'm sorry, Blues, but I need to be ready to assist my brother."

He opens his mouth, but she hacks his systems with ease; for a moment he's overwhelmed with thoughts, and not all of them are hers.

"We are connected," she says coolly, retreating from his control system with as much ease as she entered. "I'm his navigator, and his confidant. If either of us fails…" That smile's still there, controlled and casual. "If either of us falters, everything goes to pieces."

Blues isn't sure what to do with all the doubts he'd just felt— the fear of dying, of failure, of seeing loved ones hurt— but they leave him reeling. His knees are weak. He inhales sharply, and he looks down at Roll now with envy— she is what he is not: a machine designed to act like one, with nerves of steel that could make Rock tremble in comparison. Perhaps it's for the best that she doesn't take the field...

"But the override is only temporary medicine," she continues. "Blues. I would like you to help my brother. He carries more weight than either of us can bear, and I can't hold up his mind alone. It's time you helped more. He cares for you. Please… Let him know you care for him."

And every one of Rock's doubts rings in his head— the burden of killing one's own kind for the greater good. The fear of failure. The fear that what he's doing might not be right. Blues swallows air and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "…Right."

"I will hold you to that promise." She smiles and walks past him, humming softly.

Something tells him that Roll is not to be crossed.

—

He's finally conscious.

Rock hobbles out of the repair room, straining himself. Had his override been in place, he might not have been so compelled to move. That's what tips Blues off; he's acting illogically, muttering a string of words under his breath. They aren't actual swear words, but he says them with enough bitterness for it to count.

Blues slips up to him just in time; the repairs are complete, but his body's weak. Rock stumbles and Blues catches him, effortlessly sweeping him off of his feet. Rock doesn't even struggle, or even react much beyond leaning into Blues's touch, eyes half-closed.

"Where were you headed?" Blues says softly, not sure if he should smile or not.

Rock shrugs.

"No clue, huh?"

Another shrug.

"Would you like me to take you up to your room?"

He's still for a moment. Then he nods.

"Right." The trip is made in silence. Dr Light is passed out as his workbench, pouring over designs for a new line. They pass Roll in the hallways, but she says all she needs to with a single look.

Rock's room is dark. Blues decides he doesn't need to turn on the light. The streetlights outside prove enough for him to see the outlines of Rock's face, once his optics compensate. Blues sets the younger robot on the bed.

His first instinct is to leave. But Rock grabs his hand, looking up at him. "Do you hate me?"

Blues freezes. "Of course not."

"But I'm…" His brow knits. "I'm a monster. I kill them, time after time, and I can't even… even mourn. Because if I stop, I'll start to realize…"

Blues pauses, then sets his shades on the nightstand and crawls down in bed with Rock. He curls up close, nuzzling into Rock's neck and trying to get some sort of response.

Rock looks away. "Everyone says I'm doing the right thing. That I'm putting them out of their misery…"

Blues kisses the side of his face. "You're not a monster."

"But they all say—"

"They kill innocents. You stop them." Blues says it simply. "You have never harmed anyone that didn't deserve it, Rock. And I know you don't believe me and I know it's easy for me to say this, but… You're not a monster."

Rock's mouth opens and then shuts it. He exhales sharply and then rolls over so that he's nuzzling into Blues's shoulder. Blues runs his fingers through his hair, undoing tangles and snags from Rock's tendency to not bother with brushes.

A long moment of silence passes. Quietly, Blues murmurs, "I love you."

Rock's quiet for a moment, then his arms slip up Blues's back and he presses closer. Blues holds him tighter.

They stay like that for the rest of the night.


End file.
